


B is for Bondage

by Zeplerfer



Series: Alphabet Smut [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: America does drugs, Begging, Blow Job, Blue Balls, Bondage, Bottom America (Hetalia), Bottoming, Butts, Drugged Sex, England does America, M/M, UKUS, blindfold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-22 22:31:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18536779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeplerfer/pseuds/Zeplerfer
Summary: Butt sex is the best birthday present. UKUS.





	B is for Bondage

“Happy Birthday, England!” America shouted as he let himself into England’s house. His booming voice echoed in the empty foyer. He waited a few moments for his boyfriend to appear, then shrugged and followed his nose to the kitchen. The overpowering scent of charcoal told him that England had been baking again.

There was a tray of cookies on the kitchen island, next to a lockbox with an odd padlock. America helped himself to one of the crunchy cookies.

“Dude, your cookies suck!” America yelled, hoping to goad England into shouting back that they were called _biscuits_ and they were perfectly delicious. But his insult was met with only silence. America shoved another cookie into his mouth and studied the lockbox. There was a note on top written in England’s elegant cursive. “ _I baked you something special. The safe word is BOND_.”

America glanced down at the padlock and grinned when he saw it was a lock that used a four-letter combination instead of numbers. He turned the dials to B-O-N-D and popped the lock open. Inside was a pile of brownies. At least, America assumed they were supposed to be brownies based on the dark brown coloring. It was sometimes hard to tell with England’s cooking. America took a bite and decided from the burnt chocolate taste that it was probably a brownie. He ate a few more for good measure.

In anticipation of what was coming next, America sat down on one of the kitchen chairs and relaxed as he waited for England to return. He pulled out his phone and browsed internet sites for a while, chucking to himself. These were some excellent memes because America felt _really_ good. Nice and peaceful—without a care in the world. He blinked as the cat pictures and memes on his phone screen started to blur and grow hazy. He didn’t even react when a hand reached out and gently took the phone from his grasp. America slumped back in the seat and everything went black.

It took America a few seconds to realize that he had not passed out. He was being blindfolded.

“Don’t worry, love, I’ve got everything under control,” England purred in his ear. 

“H’ppy bir’day,” America slurred.

“Oh, it _will_ be,” England happily agreed.

* * *

The next thing America knew, his cheeks was pressed against a piece of wood. It took him a second to orient himself. He was laying on his side with his arms tied above his head and his legs tied together. Ropes wrapped tightly around his body held him firmly against what felt like a wooden slab. There was something that felt like a ribbon tied around the shaft of his cock. Other than that, he was completely naked. Everything was still dark.

Groaning softly, America wiggled against his bonds, but he couldn’t break free. He wasn’t sure if he had blacked out because of the drugged brownies or if he simply didn’t remember England leading him into the sex dungeon in the basement and taking off his clothes.

“Oh, good, you’re finally awake,” England declared from somewhere behind America. “I thought about taking you while you slept, but it’s more fun when you’re conscious.”

“Hey, England. Where were you?” America asked drowsily, still completely wrecked from the brownies.

England slapped America across the ass. “I’m the one asking the questions around here. Am I understood?”

“Uh… sure.”

Another hard slap. “You mean ‘yes, sir.’”

America grunted in pleasure. His mind drifted happily. He still felt wonderfully loose and relaxed. Whatever England had put in those brownies had taken the edge off and then some. America could just lay back and think of England… specifically, England dressed up in a dominatrix outfit with a bullwhip in one hand and a ball gag in the other. Just the thought of England ravishing him was enough to make America’s cock throb with pleasure. He was so fucked. But the really _good_ sort of fucked.

While America was busy fantasizing, he barely noticed the sounds of England walking closer. Seconds later the blindfold fell away from America’s face. America blinked, eyes adjusting to the candle-lit sex dungeon. Instead of a dominatrix outfit, England was dressed in a full-on tuxedo. His trousers hugged his stunning legs and the bespoke jacket highlighted his trim waist. He looked classy and distinguished and very much in control.

“Hello, Mr. B—uh…” America paused as his brain caught up with his mouth.

England smirked back at him. “James, just James,” he replied. He leaned very close to America’s face; his eyes were beautiful and penetrating, with dark, dilated pupils framed by a thin ring of vibrant green. “I have some questions for you,” he announced.

“Yeah?” America asked.

England slapped him across the face. “Yes, sir.”

“You calling me sir?” America asked with a dopey smile. That earned him another slap, but it was totally worth it.

“This is a matter of utmost national security,” England declared. “My sources tell me that you’re the one responsible, so I will ask this only once: where is the bomb?”

“I dunno.” America tried to shrug beneath the ropes, but barely moved a muscle. It felt so good to be pinned down, completely at England's mercy.

England leaned in so close that America could count the freckles on his pale cheeks. “I think you do. And I will torture you until you admit it.”

“Not supposed to call it torture.”

“I don’t care what it’s _called_ ,” England retorted. He walked around the bench until he was facing America’s rear-end. He experimentally slipped a finger between America’s butt cheeks. “It’s all about getting you to talk.”

“I won’t.” America stifled a moan of pleasure. “No talking!”

“Oh please, you’re incapable of shutting up,” England replied as he added a second finger. He expertly scissored them as he stretched America wide open.

“Ah!” America cried out when England found his prostate. His cock hardened as pleasure raced through his veins. America writhed against his bonds, but England’s knots held tight. America sometimes found it hard not to tense up while bottoming, but the drugged brownies helped keep his muscles nice and loose. He was getting stuffed up the ass and it felt so good. America’s half-lidded eyes wandered around the sex dungeon. Red wax candles lined the walls, casting a soft glow on the assortment of chains and sex toys hanging from the walls. Everything seemed wonderful, especially when England hit his prostate again.

“Tell me what I want to know,” England purred in America’s ears as he added the third finger.

“Never.”

“If you don’t admit it, I’ll tell everyone you sleep in a teddy bear onesie.”

“No!” America gasped.

England snorted. “I’ve drugged you, tied you up, and am currently having my way with you. I don’t see why you think I would draw the line at blackmail.”

“Because, uh…” America found it hard to think through the waves of pleasure as England struck his prostate again. “Because you love me?” he suggested.

“This is _not_ how an interrogation goes,” England snapped. He pulled out his fingers and walked away. There was the sound of cloth being removed, followed by odd metallic noises.

America winced. Even the euphoria from the drugs flowing through his veins wasn’t enough to quell the flash of guilt for ruining England’s birthday present. “England?” he called. “Come back, England. I’ll be bad, I promise.”

“Beg for it,” England demanded.

“Pretty please. Pretty please with a cherry on top.”

“You don’t sound like you mean it.”

America pouted. “ _Please_ , England. I need it. I need it so bad.” His cock was hard, his balls were blue, and if England didn’t fuck him, he didn’t know what he would do.

“Fine.” England stomped over and America gaped as he stepped into sight. England had changed into a pair of high-heeled leather boots. The black boots clung to his shapely legs like a second skin and went all the way up to his creamy, mouthwatering thighs. On the upper half of his body, England wore a stunning corset crafted of metal-studded leather and chains, which jingled with every step. His shoulders and arms were bare, showing off his lean muscles and wiry strength. America’s eyes drifted down to the generous leather codpiece that encased the bulge between England’s thighs.

“Holy fuck,” America swore.

England smirked, arched an eyebrow, and lightly smacked the riding crop he held with his right hand into the palm of his left hand. He sauntered forward in his high heels and lifted up one boot so it rested on the bench right in front of America’s face. “Lick it.”

America obediently stuck out his tongue and touched the boot with the tip.

“Good boy.” England smacked his own palm a couple more times with the riding crop. “Now, are you going to tell me where the bomb is?”

“Nope.”

“Then you leave me with no choice but to _beat_ the information out of you.” England placed his boot back on the ground and turned to the side, giving America an amazing view of England’s bare buttocks. The only thing covering his bottom was a thin strip of fabric between his butt cheeks. America’s erection throbbed painfully and he moaned with need.

England leaned over the bench near America’s crotch and used his riding crop to swat America across the buttocks. He started with light strokes at first, almost a caress against the sensitive skin. America shivered in anticipation and sucked in a deep breath. England pulled back his arm and hit him again—harder this time. Hard enough to leave a bruise. America gasped and almost went cross-eyed with pleasure.

“You felt that one, didn’t you?” England said mockingly.

“Oh, yeah.”

Another smack of leather on flesh echoed in the sex dungeon. “You mean ‘yes, sir,’” England corrected once more.

“Mmm, yes, sir,” America agreed. His fingers twitched as he itched to rub his cock and finally get a release. 

England glanced over at America’s hands and smirked. “Your bum is as red as a blushing Victorian virgin and you’re still not telling me what I want to know. Perhaps it’s time to try something else…”

America blinked. “Uh, what?”

“I’m going to sit and read a book until you’re ready to talk.”

“You wouldn’t!”

England—that fucking tease—proved that he _would_ by walking away from America’s naked, tied-up body and sitting down in a plush red velvet chair. The chair had shackles on each arm to hold someone in place, but England just sat down casually and crossed one leg on top of the other—giving America a tantalizing view of his sexy boots. England grabbed an art book of naughty burlesque photos from the side table. He daintily licked a finger and used it to turn the page.

After a few pages, England pulled off his codpiece and idly began stroking his cock. His hand moved up and down the erect length. This thumb brushed across the tip and spread a wet line of pre-cum down his entire cock. America stared hungrily. His hands clenched and unclenched as he desperately wanted to touch himself and find sweet release.

The color rose in England’s cheeks as he continued to stroke himself with one hand while he turned the pages with the other. America bit his lip. He could see that England was going to come any second—leaving America tied up with no relief. England turned another page and panted softly while America groaned in frustration.

“England, please, please just fuck me already,” America begged. When that drew no response, America shouted, “Alright, I give in! The bomb’s in Big Ben!”

England finally looked up and met America’s gaze. He stared at America with half-lidded eyes and took a few, slow breaths, as if it took a few seconds for America’s words to reach his brain. When they finally did, England arched an eyebrow in amusement. “Really?”

“Yep! It’s gonna explode any second.”

England glanced down at his own cock and then back up at America with a half-smirk. He rolled his eyes. “That’s a tad cliched, even for you.”

“Come on,” America pleaded.

England lounged back in the red velvet chair, eyes hooded as he enjoyed the sight in front of him—America bound and helpless. A length of rope wrapped the nation tightly to the work bench, holding down his strong legs, powerful arms, and his firm, muscular chest. America’s cock bulged out from between his thighs, thick and wide and long. There was a red ribbon wrapped around the shaft of America’s cock—tied in a little bow—to remind England that this was his birthday present. In his drug-weakened state, America was completely dependent on England for relief. And he knew it. America’s flushed face was an intoxicating mixture of lust and frustration. He wanted England. He _needed_ England.

But that didn’t mean England was just going to give it to him.

Placing his boots back on the floor, England stood up and sauntered over with a smirk and a sly look in his eyes. Standing directly in front of his naked, tied-up boyfriend, England grasped his own cock. America closed his eyes and opened his mouth. With that blatant invitation, England gave himself the last few jerks he needed to push himself over the edge. He cried out as his jizz splattered onto America’s red cheeks and into his mouth.

America blinked his eyes open and smiled as he swallowed England’s load. The sight of America’s debauched, cum-splattered face sent a shiver of pleasure down England’s spine. His cock throbbed and began to harden again. England held his sticky cock in one hand and smirked. “Guess you’re going to have to make it big again if you want a fuck.”

America obligingly opened his mouth even wider. England stepped closer and pressed his cock and balls up against America’s mouth. America wrapped his lips around the tip of England’s cock and then smiled—showing a bit too much teeth.

“No biting!” England hastily instructed.

America gazed up at him coyly and stuck out his tongue. He began by tickling England’s balls with soft, gentle licks. His tongue explored every inch of salty skin. England’s cheeks flushed with desire as warmth coiled at the base of his spine. From years of experience, America knew just the right places to touch and the right pressure to use. America’s eyes fluttered shut as he began to suck England’s cock, moving his head slightly forward and slightly backward. The soft warmth was more than enough to make England’s cock harden. England bit his lip to stop from crying out in pleasure. He didn’t want to ruin the atmosphere by letting America know how much power over him America had at that moment.

And then, with no warning whatsoever, America pulled back and left England’s impressive cock exposed in the cool basement air. He opened his eyes and smirked at England with a playful expression.

Too aroused to be truly annoyed, England hurried around to the back of the bench. He gripped the top of America’s right hip with both hands and slowly sank his cock into the ass he had carefully stretched out earlier. Beneath his hands, America shuddered with pleasure. England started his thrusts slowly, enjoying every moment of the tight warmth encasing his cock. He thrust in and out—drawing cries of pleasure from America’s throat when he hit the other nation’s prostrate. England panted breathlessly as his thrusts grew more jagged. He leaned against the bench, using it to steady his suddenly wobbly knees.

With a final cry of pleasure, England came again. Cock still buried in America’s ass, he slumped forward on top of America. With his stomach pressed against America’s right hip and his head bent forward, England had a good view of the other nation’s cock. He grasped it with both hands and after only a couple of strokes, helped America come as well.

England lay sprawled on top of America for a few moments as he caught his breath. He yawned as the sleepiness after orgasm caught up with him.

“That was _good_ ,” America said, voice low and throaty. After a few more seconds of silence, he added, “You okay, babe?”

“Mmm,” England agreed as he climbed to his feet. “Just… give me a second and I’ll get you out of there.”

“Don’t worry, I got this,” America replied. He grunted and flexed his muscles against his bonds. The ropes snapped and went flying while the work bench cracked in half. America tumbled to the floor in a hail of broken wood and frayed ropes. He landed on the ground with a hard thud, then stood up amongst the wreckage with a sheepish grin. “Oops.”

England just rolled his eyes. “This is why I don’t tie you to the bed anymore.”

Taking two steps closer, America pulled England into a tight embrace and gave his boyfriend a soft kiss on the lips. “Tired already, old man?” he teased as he wrapped his arms around England’s waist. With England in high heels, they were exactly the same height.

England snorted. “Well, I was the one doing all the work. You just lay there.”

“I was a little tied up,” America reminded him. He nuzzled England’s neck. “By the way, whatever you put in the brownies is real good. Nice and couchy.” America peppered kisses up England’s neck and along his jaw line. He reached England’s mouth and kissed him deeply. As his tongue explored England’s mouth, America’s hands slid downward to England’s naked butt cheeks. He gave each a gentle squeeze.

England kissed back with equal fervor. He wrapped his arms around America’s neck and pulled America even closer until his leather corset was pressed against America’s firm, muscular chest. He slipped a leg between America’s thighs and smirked as he felt America’s cock already hardening again. “God, you’re such an insatiable shag bandit,” England murmured affectionately when their passionate kiss finally ended.

“You love it,” America teased. “Anything else you want to do?”

“You, obviously.” England pulled away and headed for the stairs. He flicked a switch and all of the candles turned off. “I’ve got a bottle of bubbly waiting for us in the master bath.”

America smiled happily to himself as he climbed the stairs behind England. The view of England’s perky ass was delectable. America licked his lips and whistled admiringly. “You’ve got such a cheeky bottom, babe.”

England glanced over his shoulder and smiled at America. “I do—but I love him anyway.”

They climbed upstairs to the master bathroom, where more candles already lined the walls, rose petals lay strewn across the elegant tile floor, and a bottle of bubbly and two champagne flutes waited for them next to the tub. America set about lighting the candles while England prepared a bubble bath in the jetted master tub.

When the candles were lit, America turned off the overhead lights, leaving the bathroom aglow with soft, romantic candlelight. He turned around and found England waiting, perched on the edge of the tub. England lifted one leg so his boot was parallel to the ground and smiled invitingly. America knelt down and pulled off one boot, followed by the other. He set them on the bathroom counter, far away from the potential splash zone. He would hate to see anything happen to England’s sexy hooker boots.

Next came the complicated buckles and chains of England’s dominatrix corset. America unbuckled them carefully and pulled off the leather masterpiece. England was finally—gloriously—naked. America ogled his boyfriend for a moment before placing the corset next to the boots and covering them all with a fluffy green towel. He turned around just in time to see England step into the tub and sink down into the bubbles, giving America a mere flash of his beguiling rear end.

America stared down at his own nakedness and reached to take off the red ribbon tied into a bow around his cock. His hands stopped when he heard England say, “No. Leave it on.”

“As you wish,” America replied. He sat down on the edge of the tub and smiled at his boyfriend. “Looks like you need a lifeguard on this beach.”

England smiled back with bewitching, half-lidded eyes. “Are you offering?”

“You bet,” America said as he lowered himself into the warm water and positioned himself so he was facing England. He reached for the bottle of sparkling wine and popped it open easily. America poured a glass for England and then one for himself. “Happy Birthday, babe,” he said as they clinked the champagne flutes together.

England smiled back at him—soft and sweet—and America felt his heart might burst from the rush of affection. For a nation who could be so prickly and curmudgeonly, England also had a surprisingly tender side. America felt as effervescent and buoyant as the fizzy wine. He took one more drink and then set his glass on the side of the tub. Then he took off his eyeglasses and set them next to the champagne flute.

“What are you planning?” England asked as he sipped his sparkling wine and used his free hand to draw patterns in the bubbles.

“A little surprise,” America replied. He moved forward onto his knees until he was straddling England’s thighs. Beneath the bubbles, he slid his hands along England’s thighs until they met at England’s hardening cock. America grinned and wrapped his hands around England’s shaft. He moved them with expert pressure and speed and quickly felt the cock harden as blood rushed once more to England’s loins.

“Oh, god, yes,” England murmured. His eyes fluttered shut and he let his head fall back onto the headrest carved into the side of the tub.

America kept up the rhythm, but it grew harder to maintain the steady pace as his own cock throbbed in the warm water. He watched England’s cheeks grow more flushed and smiled as England’s lips parted to take in a deep breath of air. America sucked in a deep breath himself, then plunged his face into the bubbly water and wrapped his lips tightly around England’s magnificent cock. He moved his head back and forth until he was almost out of oxygen. America surfaced with a deep gasp for breath. Bubbles covered his hair and face as England stared back at him with rosy cheeks and dazed, half-lidded eyes.

When America had caught his breath, he dived under again and deep-throated the thick cock. He felt England’s hands grasp his wet hair and grip it tightly. Warm water filled his mouth, followed by a sudden burst of salty semen. America spit it out as he surfaced and sucked in another lungful of air. He grinned at England—who lay boneless against the side of the tub and panted for breath while he recovered from his orgasm. America jerked himself to release as he ogled his debauched boyfriend.  

“Pretty good, huh?” America couldn’t resist bragging once he had finished.

“Mmm,” England agreed. “Wonderful.” Then there was that smile again—the one that made America’s heart soar.

America grabbed the bottle of sparkling wine and topped off England’s glass. He leaned back against his own built-in head rest and sighed contentedly. For a few minutes, they sipped sparkling wine and relaxed in comfortable silence. The flickering candlelight cast a soothing glow and the delicate scent of roses filled the room. It was hard living on opposite sides of the Atlantic—but that made their time together all the sweeter.

England’s smile relaxed further as he finished his second glass. He chuckled as America topped him off again. “I couldn’t ask for a better birthday or a better boyfriend.”

“I think I know something that would make it better,” America suggested with a wag of his eyebrows.

England set his half-empty glass on the side of the tub and beckoned America closer. Eager for another round, America straddled England’s hips and leaned in to kiss him deeply. England’s mouth tasted of bubbly and his tongue darted forward as he deepened the kiss. They kissed and kissed until it felt like they would run out of air.

“Hold on,” England said as he reached under the water and untied the wet ribbon tied around the shaft of America’s hardening cock. He grabbed America’s wrists and tied them together just above the surface of the water.

America grinned at the wet, red ribbon wrapped tightly around his wrists. “This isn’t going to hold, you know.”

England shook his head and smiled gently. “I know. It’s about knowing that you could break free and leave at any minute, but you choose to stay anyway.”

America felt a sudden lump in his throat. He lifted his arms over England’s head and rested his tied-up wrists behind England’s neck. America closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against England’s forehead. He took a deep breath. “I love you,” he whispered with a shaky voice.

“I know,” England replied, the catch in his throat saying more than his words ever could.

America tilted his head to the side and leaned in to kiss England. As they kissed, America slowly lowered himself, trusting that England would help guide him into position. England’s hands cupped his butt cheeks and gently stretched them apart as America slowly lowered himself onto England’s cock, inch by inch. America gasped at the pleasant stretch, luxuriating in the feeling of being completely filled by England’s thick cock. When he'd gone as far as he could, he took a deep breath and adjusted to the tight fit.

“Ready?” England whispered.

America grunted his assent and then gasped in pleasure as England rolled his hips and thrust upward until he hit America’s prostate. The water made it easier to move—reducing the friction as America lowered himself to meet each thrust. As they moved, the water splashed out of the tub and made a mess on the floor, but neither one of them cared. America panted happily, his arms still wrapped around England’s neck with his wrists bound together.

England cried out and jolted beneath him, filling America with sticky warmth. For a few blissful moments, England’s mouth hung open with orgasmic pleasure. America took advantage of England's dazed condition to lean in and kiss him again, slipping his tongue into England’s inviting mouth. England kissed back and grasped America’s cock beneath the water. It took him only a few strokes to return the favor of a mind-blowing orgasm.

America gasped and slumped against England’s chest, causing a wave of water to splash out onto the tile floor. This time, England noticed.

“Love, I think there’s more water outside the tub than there is in it.”

“Probably,” America agreed in a way that suggested he couldn’t care less.

“And the water’s getting cold.”

“Yep,” America replied with post-coital agreeability. Taking the hint, he lifted his arms up over England’s head and rolled to the side with a face-splitting yawn.

England pulled out the plug and climbed out of the rapidly diminishing amount of water. He grabbed a towel from the rack and rubbed himself dry as America watched with open appreciation. “Come on,” England said, helping pull America to his feet and quickly untying the ribbon around his wrists. “Time for bed.”

“Bed sounds good.” America yawned again. He dried himself off and tossed the towel onto the wet tile floor. England smirked and snapped his towel at America’s ass. America laughed and ran toward the bedroom, narrowly avoiding England’s towel. Still laughing, he flopped onto the bed and gave England a sleepy grin. “Good birthday?”

“The best,” England agreed with a yawn of his own. He lay down next to America and pulled a blanket on top of their naked bodies. Next to him, he heard America’s breath slowly even out as he fell asleep. England snuggled closer to his warm, sleeping boyfriend. He’d enjoyed many birthdays in his long, long life, but each one spent with America truly was the best.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy early birthday, England! What better way to celebrate 4/20 and 4/23? :)
> 
> I started out with BDSM and it turned into pure fluff ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
